


Evenfall Sláinte

by saddpphire



Category: Evenfall Sláinte
Genre: 2000s, Animal Death, Anthophobia, Archery, Atelophobia, Bakery, Character Death, Character diversity, Chemicals, Codes & Ciphers, College, Consulting Criminal, Cruelty, Cynical, Dark Humor, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Evil Plans, Family, Friendship, Gen, Harm to Animals, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Investigations, Japan, Japanese Character(s), Japanese Culture, Kyudo, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, Multiple Ethnicities, Murder Mystery, My First AO3 Post, No Romance, POV First Person, Partners in Crime, Plot Twists, Psychological Trauma, Psychology, Revenge, Rumors, Sarcasm, Siblings, Slice of Life, Student Athlete, University, Vignette, Villain Protagonist, Volleyball, Wounds, athlete
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:21:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24858316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saddpphire/pseuds/saddpphire
Summary: With the mirror imbued with sunshineHer tears are left unshedShe's the soul one must not defineFor her blood is not redMeet her in evenfallToast with her and do not shunFlash a beam as the last sand shall fallShe has no time for everyone's funBefriend her and one shall see heavenOppose her and one shall see hellDo not fell in her blissful swevenOr thou shall hear thy death knell





	1. 一 | Fourth encounter

**Author's Note:**

> My very first work here :3 Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Please do not attempt to emulate the wrong doings of my main protagonist. Negative traits are not considered as "cool" and "correct".

Y.

AFTER THE ANTECEDENT YEAR of 2013 I had played for a professional volleyball team based in Modena, Italy, and being a distinct soul from my teammates was just the tip of the iceberg. Despite the fact that I had been getting ample of Zs, considerably partaking substantial amount of hearty foods, and even done perfunctory daily dozens; I ended up being dead on my feet. Thanks to my broke English for it had been helped me to confabulate with them at the minimum. Thus, gainsaid the general air of malaise as for the reason that I was the one who had chosen that country for I have been much engrossed by their culture after all.

My team emboldened each other throughout the time of practices and in games to do our optimum play because every player's endeavour chipped into our success or catastrophe. It would have been much better if I had digested their lingo. I'm afraid that I enjoy doing new things yet disrelishes being with large groups of unfamiliar populace. However, at the end of the day, I was still glad to make a positive contribution to my teammates.

I do remember Miya would often ask me: "Do you actually make a living playing volleyball?". That annoyed me a slight, but was rather grateful since she had already been following my steps today and started to pursue her own volleyball career whilst studying at our hometown prefecture; Chiba, with our dear parents, whilst I preferred more to be enrolled in a university in Tokyo as I am now. Today was just the end of the second week since the school had begun; here minding my own business to survive this and the following second semester though in fact studying college in Japan was actually not that hard compared to other countries. Though I wish I could have at least one companion to be close with — notwithstanding being an introvert, loneliness is still inevitable and so as to be in want for human interaction.

On the very day that I had come to these conclusions, I was seated at our local sit-down bakery with a coffee cup enveloped in my hand; wandering my eyes outside through the glass as the petals of cherry blossom would fall and disperse to the ground. Putting on my thinking cap why do I still feel like a foreigner even though I'm already in my own country? I thought aloud as I felt a hand tapped on my shoulder.

"Yūkihiro Kawaishi." Turning round to hear his croaky voice with a smize; more wrinkles arose from his wrinkled face. I came to delight for him making an appearance in here again for I have been only seeing the aged man for specific days of twice in a week. I could not almost believe myself from be closing myself to a weird, Italian-Japanese elder rather than people round my age. However, he was like a father to me after all by just simply just being there and talk about life, asking how my day was spent, and supporting me on playing volleyball. However, as I said earlier, he tends to get weird, much like being eccentric, in a good way oftentimes by expressing bizarre things.

"Afternoon, signore!" I exclaimed with a big smile on my face; like an ebullient child catching bubbles under the sun. "Signore, you won't believe me; I perfected it!"

"You did much to ameliorate it; glad not to hear your house burning."

"I assure you that my prospect goods would not fail anymore. Care to impart some other recipe of yours?"

The old man acceded to my request; delineating the methods of his victuals as I took down note of its viands. I cannot help but perceive how his fingers would tingle and how his posture slouched; unnaturally lacking out of energy. I was also bothered how his leg would always tightly wrapped round the other and then twined the foot under the calf— no. I shouldn't stereotype gender roles.

"Something unpleasant had probably occurred; did signora told you to do the dishes again?"

A chortle paid my inquiry. "That's the second."

"And the first?"

"Fingers were just hurt for I overplayed my instrument. And oh, please don't overwork your sets or blocks, young man. Long-term consistency trumps over short term intensity they say."

"What?" I asked in astonishment as he took a seat beside me. "You're right! I'm working on my tosses, signore. Your surmissions and speculations had never failed to fascinate me — and please remove your gloves or it'll irritate your fingers."

"I shall take that as a humble complisult as I never surmise or speculate, but rather infer and explicate. Shreds of evidence ought to be accurate by gathering unambiguous pieces of information, selecting the datum then prioritize, to be followed by disregarding the unhelpful ones afore finally developing the conclusion. Though, sometimes I practice predicting informations about someone's life. I already tape it so please mind your own nearly sprained fingers instead of mine."

"Care to show it to me then?" I inquired as I took another sup of my eye-opener, hearing him chuckling before adjusting his brimmed and woollen ushanka.

"Ah, the youth and their adorable trust issues..." He remarked and rolled his eyes.

"I don't, really. Ever heard of the word 'consideration'?"

"Uhm, 'consideration' doesn't really exist in my dictionary."

🔎

I offered him help to walk to the bus stop for his destination. As we made our way to the Bushi station from the Châteraisé, I asked signore Fiorde to elucidate about how he came to the aforementioned conclusion he stated.

"Y'didn't say your greetings in Italian, you had arrived earlier than I, mocha instead of black, you use your left when y'lifted that cup, let alone your sombre face."  
"Some doesn't make sense; I can switch my coffee any time, and so as using my left, and how come does arriving earlier a sign of overworking? Doesn't it contradict your conclusion?"  
"Black maybe your preference but mocha is sweet and it improves your mood from stress earlier during set practices. After some time you gave up tossing — mayhap because you tend to let go easily the things you cannot control. Despite the straining fingers, you continued playing but as your main position, that means using your dominant right hand until it came to exhaustion."

I raised my eyebrows and gave him a lopsided grin in an attempt to hide my fascination. "And the time?"

The corners of his mouth and cheeks rose and forms crow's feet round the eyes. "Eight — 'twas the accustomed time you took visit here 'til 9. But you are worried for your newly-adopted 5-month-old kitten being home alone. So there you are at 7 and go home by 8."

"Crumbs! I'm done!" I joshingly exclaimed, raising the both of my hand halfway up in the air. "I know bupkis about you knowing my kitten. I'm just gonna pretend that you're just a ghost who'd always been in my back so I won't ask anymore. This is just the fourth day we met since last week; I'm afraid you'll get to know me more than I, myself!"

He dug his gloved hand in his baggy pant's pouch under his duffle coat as he took out an athletic tape that was exactly what I needed. "Two weeks passed and you still have no friends to have a nice nabepa. Give me your hands, siete molto benvenuti."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was not really a summary but I think that'll do. This is my very first time uploading a story on a website.  
> I apologize in advance for some grammar and/or spelling mistakes, but don't worry; I believe my writing will be better as the story proceeds. Thanks for readiiiing :3


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Please do not attempt to emulate the wrongdoings of my main protagonist. Negative traits are not considered as "cool" and "correct".

THE REVERBERATION of unrelenting sound of taps echoed in the study hall as I instinctively pattered my pen against our large desk that was currently encircled by my teammates. Various papers germane for our 4:30 pm academic support laid in disarray in front me whilst contemplating over the tiramisu cake inside the clamshell container I spent two days before it came to perfection; motivated by signore's "You have to be perfect or you're a failure. There is no middle ground.". However, I still oppose to follow and make it a mindset — but still kept that in my pocket and was glad that it helped me in a way nonetheless.  
I perceive myself in a state of giddiness; being apprehensive yet exhilarated as I anticipate his feedback.  


Did I over-soaked the genoise with the coffee syrup, or overfilled it instead with mascarpone? Or perhaps I sprinkled too much cocoa powder for garnish?

"Kawaishi," I gasped as a silvery voice called out for my name. Batting my eyelashes, I looked over to the source. "Is everything fine?"  


"Yeah, are you all right? You've been staring to that cake for five minutes straight, you can just eat it here, you know."

"I'm all good. Thanks, Nishiya, Masaharu. I can't eat it though, it's a gift." All of their eyes suddenly glued to me, putting me in a bubble of confusion.

"My dear Kawaishi-kun, we've been friends for a long time. Care to tell me your ways?" I heard a chair sliding towards my direction; turning my head eastward with an eyebrow rose from Kōsuke's inquiry that I seem cannot grasp to comprehension.

"You didn't even know his birthday."

"Shut up, Nishiya. No one knows."

"Everyone knew except you." I put my hand on my forehead, with my elbow atop of the desk before letting out a deep sigh.

It was a very great way to start off this week with my messenger bag being full of a chaotic medley of random things inside for I habitually chuck them straight away to it once I took depart from school. However, was presently assailed by fret, and regret has started to consume me for dumping the tiramisu along with the randomness, to the point of feeling them all jumbling inside as I scurried through the university's quadrangle.

I came to halt when I hardly espied a familiar figure sitting under from one of the cherry blossom trees from the corner of my eye. I sauntered towards the person who's back facing me, that quickly turned to a brisk at the moment I figured who it was.

"Masaharu?"

With the sun low in the sky, due northern's shadows shall be turning east. He turned round, only to cognize him teary-eyed and knuckles being badly contused.

🔎

My companion insisted to come with me to the Châteraisé after just being splinted; stating that he fancied to purchase a bread for someone. As we step our foot inside the bakery, there was the old man in his usual spot, a drink in front of him and keep adjusting his ushanka.

"Hear him Masa," I smiled. "You'll be amused," I said after introducing the both of them.  
Seconds had passed and an intervening void in time and space just seated between the three of us. "Signore?" My eyebrows rose as I smile. "Go explain the reason how he got that splint or — or the type of ground he fell on to! Or his velocity when he hits the ground based on his height, the mass of the person he collided before he fell..."

"No. He messaged me earlier that he'll be late for treating you." My eyes grew wide from the lie he stated to my friend. He didn't even have a phone in the first place, I thought. How did he know I was the one who made his splint?

The three of us continued to converse how our days were spent until my teammate excused himself to purchase some nosh. Signore informed me about someone from my university named Mizuki — which one was rumoured to be cunning and a hypocrite. I already heard Mizuki's name had to be in some of my teammates' mouth; in such earning her a bad epithet, and pointed as the root of every awful situation in our school. Despite of the majority claiming the rumours in factuality, readers may hate me but I still have my doubts, and for I be in need to see it in my own eyes before developing a conclusion — and she was a good acquaintance of mine after all. Everyone might be just stuck in a bubble of boredom, that's one why they gossip of necessity.

Moments passed and my teammate had already bought a cake, perceiving him from the corner of my eye as he made his way back to our direction to announce his depart, I guess.

"Excuse me, Toscano-san—"

"During that Sunday morning, I heard Mizuki volunteered to walk our beloved pet, which Elizabeth, my wife, happily agreed to. As I water my plants upstairs, I saw her leashed his head behind her upright trike before driving in it with great speed. I tried my best to chase them but it was too late. Elizabeth and I went out for searching because that devil didn't return him anymore. Later that night, we found him breathlessly lying near the alluvium, who had already lost two of his claws and almost died from blood loss."  
"For the love of God! Please never say that cursed name inside my bakery!" All the customers' attention turned to the woman whose fright manifested her mien. With the people's gaze still directed to her, she let herself took a seat on one of her shop's chairs; alone in the middle table.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Letting her babysit my child was the most regretful thing I did in my life, Fiorde-san," Her voice was more brittle than glass. "Rumors had spread about her abusing my child, but I didn't listen because I knew myself that she was an angel that cannot do such a thing. Hell, I even thought her the embodiment of goodness — until one time I sneak peeked to our house window before I leave for work. And that was the time I can't believe what I had just seen and heard: she was yelling very strong words right in front of her while holding her jaw tightly because she doesn't want to eat! Hearing my little girl cry instantly shattered my heart into pieces, as she continually hit her delicate cheeks with those filthy hand." She cried whilst wiping her tears underneath each eye, one at a time — why does that bother me?  
"But for the sake of her ill father, I'd let her continue to be the babysitter of my child after apologizing to me, Fiorde-san. But when I saw her with that new emerald ring she just bought, I instantly showed her the door. She's the worst person you'll ever meet. " She quivered, as she excused herself before dashing out to the servery counter.

My mouth set in a hard line as the old man eyed my cake for roughly 2 minutes straight up till he eventually sticks down the fork and brought it up to his mouth, his eyes narrowing.  
"Too much cocoa." Yeah, I should've seen this. I guess I'm considered as a failure after all. "But better than my dog's dinner, at least."

A sound of clearing their throat caught our attention. "Anyway, I don't want to monopolize all your time, Yūkihiro, Toscano-san."

"Once upon a time, Michel ingested an entire plane 27 years ago before he passed away. Take as much time as you need until you grasp it. Eve, Masaharu."

As soon as he left the store, I shoot the old man with a baffled look. "I have ques—"

"You have you keep an eye on your friend and an Irish person — 'a b'lieve — he shall go after. Tell him you volunteer to bring the bread to the person when you're already sure they're his target. Slid into your bag, and dump it later to your house bin. Befriend the person, make them feel attached to you before telling them that they should tell your friend that they received it and it was delicious. Tomorrow."

"Pardon?" I said as I batted my eyelashes many times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm... Who do you think is that Irish person? And why do signore Fiorde told him that in all of a sudden?  
> -  
> Ouv I'm trying my best to manage my time for writing, drawing, and playing BOTW. Haalp T.T
> 
> Aaanywaaays thanks for reading ;p


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